


Disjointed

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s04e10 Vested Interest, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In "Vested Interest" the vest saved Neal from being seriously injured but the fall wasn't entirely without consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disjointed

**Author's Note:**

> This one has a bit of a complicated provenance for such a short h/c fic. I originally started it for a [prompt](http://whitecollarhc.livejournal.com/79711.html?thread=760159#t760159) [](http://dmk0064.livejournal.com/profile)[**dmk0064**](http://dmk0064.livejournal.com/) left on [](http://whitecollarhc.livejournal.com/profile)[**whitecollarhc**](http://whitecollarhc.livejournal.com/) some months ago, and then while it was unfinished I cannibalized and remixed some of it in a different POV for [](http://whitecollarlas.livejournal.com/profile)[**whitecollarlas**](http://whitecollarlas.livejournal.com/). Then I finished and posted it for [](http://frith-in-thorns.livejournal.com/profile)[**frith_in_thorns**](http://frith-in-thorns.livejournal.com/)'s [](http://fandom-stocking.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://fandom-stocking.dreamwidth.org/)**fandom_stocking**. :)

Peter secured the suspects, feeling a sick, pounding kind of panic as the image of Neal getting shot played itself on a loop in his head. Neal had jerked to a stand-still then fallen between cars, and Peter could almost smell the blood, almost see it spreading in a pool on the gray concrete. He refused to let panic slow him down; there was no point in going to help Neal if they both got shot by an unsecured gunman, and rushing would only lead to him fumbling with the cuffs, wasting time that Neal might not have.

When he finally rounded the side of the car Neal had fallen behind, Peter had to blink to adjust his eyes to the bright red blood he didn't see. Neal was hunched against the side of a sedan, but he was clearly conscious and breathing. And in pain.

"Neal!" Peter's voice echoed around him in the parking garage, and Neal looked up revealing some of the blood Peter had been expecting. He had a raw-looking scrape on his cheek, and his chin was bleeding from another scrape. His right arm was clutching his left, and Peter didn't know if that was shock or an injury, if the arm over his chest might be hiding something far worse.

"Hey," Neal replied, his voice winded but not weak. Wincing, he let go of his left arm and opened the front of his shirt. "Guess the vest really does work."

"Damn it, Neal." Peter slumped in relief, the departing rush of adrenaline leaving him shaky. He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and sank down to crouch in front of Neal, reaching out to dab at the bleeding cut on his chin. Neal was holding onto his arm again, and his was pale, drawn tight with pain. "So what's going on here. You hit your head?"

"Not too much." Neal breathed in and out through his nose, his whole body tense. "It's my shoulder." He closed his eyes tight and swore under his breath.

"Dislocated?" At Neal's nod, Peter stood and checked to make sure an ambulance was on the way then pulled off his jacket and sat down next to Neal again. "EMTs should be here in a few minutes. No arguments."

Neal shifted as if to start standing up then winced and stopped, swallowing hard. "I think I'm good with that this time."

Peter wanted to stabilize Neal's shoulder, but he didn't think he'd be able to get Neal to pry his fingers loose before the ambulance arrived so he just draped his jacket around Neal's back as he bent forward around the pain in his arm and, no doubt, the rest of his body. Peter didn't know if Neal really wanted him close, but he couldn't leave Neal there to wait alone, in pain on the cold concrete, so he just sat there with his hand on Neal's uninjured shoulder until the ambulance made its way up through the parking deck and into the middle of the crime scene.

Neal relaxed a little once the EMT got his arm in a sling, properly supported against his body, but then he frowned at the collar they snapped around his neck and head. Neal hadn't seemed to have a serious head or neck injury, but Peter knew it couldn't be ruled out on the spot. Peter watched as the EMTs loaded Neal into the back of the ambulance then looked at the crowd of agents working behind him.

"Neal, I have to make sure everything's okay here, but I'll be right behind you."

Neal started to nod but the restraints on his neck didn't allow that much movement. "I'm okay," he said instead.

"I know. But I'll meet you there" Neal blinked his eyes sleepily in response, and Peter backed off as the ambulance doors closed and it began to pull away.

~~~

By the time Peter gave a preliminary statement, he was too late to check in with Neal before he was taken to x-ray, but half an hour later he was directed back to a curtained-off area in the ER. He found Neal there, in a hospital gown with a sling on his arm and bleary, doped-up eyes. He had a bandage on his chin, but the cervical collar was gone, and Peter let out a sigh of relief that Neal hadn't landed that badly.

"Hiiiiii, Peter," Neal drawled. He smiled openly, and Peter looked away; it felt like a lie to accept the full glow of that smile when he knew that Neal wouldn't be offering him that kind of smile if he weren't drugged to the gills.

"I see you're feeling better," Peter said, resting his hand on the railing around Neal's bed.

"Lots better." Neal smiled again. "It hurt when they put my arm back in, but then I didn't really care."

"I bet."

The curtain opened then, and a doctor walked in. "Hello again, Mr. Caffrey." He turned to look at Peter. "I'm Dr. Chin, and I'm managing Mr. Caffrey's care today."

"Agent Peter Burke."

"Ah, I assume you have something to do with Mr. Caffrey's accessory?" He nodded toward the foot of the bed, where Neal's anklet hid beneath the blanket.

"I'm his supervising agent." Peter looked at Neal, his face washed out by the pain and the harsh hospital lighting, and felt a surge of the fondness that always got him in trouble when it came to Neal. "And his friend as well. Is there anything serious?"

Dr. Chin shook his head. "No, nothing too serious. We were able to reduce his dislocated shoulder non-surgically. Mr. Caffrey, you'll need to see an orthopedist for a follow-up, but I think your shoulder will heal well if you wear the sling to support it. We'll make that appointment for you before you leave."

Neal just nodded, so Peter pressed for more information. "He fell pretty hard. Was there anything else?"

"There's no concussion, no spinal damage or other broken bones. His left knee is badly bruised and will be uncomfortable for a few days but there's no ligament damage. There's also quite a bruise on his sternum from where that very interesting vest stopped the bullet." He looked down at Neal again. "Mr. Caffrey, we're going to discharge you with prescriptions for a muscle relaxant and an anti-inflammatory. Do you have any questions?"

"How soon can I take off the sling?"

"You should keep it on except for while showering and dressing, at least until you're able to see the specialist. Keeping the joint stable is the best way to help it heal, and I promise you it won't feel good to have your arm loose."

"Great." Neal frowned, apparently having moved past happiness into the morose stage of inebriation. "That's great."

"You were lucky to avoid worse injury, Mr. Caffrey. Okay, we'll get you discharged soon but you can relax here until then."

Neal nodded silently, and before Peter could look up and thank him the doctor left. Neal stayed silent, and Peter couldn't help the uneasy feeling in his gut that said that something wasn't right. "What's going on with you, Neal?"

Neal raised his eyebrows, all baffled innocence. "They shot me in my favorite tie."

"You can borrow one of mine."

Neal chuffed out a small laugh, then winced and pressed a hand to his sternum, but some of the tension had dissipated. Peter knew that they were far from okay, that Neal himself was nursing hurts deeper than bruises and dislocations, but they had time. Despite everything, they had time.


End file.
